


Killer's Gambit

by Shorknado



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Escaping the entity with the most drama possible, Graphic Description, M/M, Possibly Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-11 22:41:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28625124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shorknado/pseuds/Shorknado
Summary: Evan MacMillian finds a way to escape from the Entity's realm, but he can't do it alone. He procures the help of his greatest foe.Unfortunately relationships are harder to build and maintain than he remembers.
Relationships: Dwight Fairfield/Evan MacMillan | The Trapper
Comments: 34
Kudos: 74





	1. Capture

**Author's Note:**

> Howdy gamers I'm back on my bullshit of just craming dwight with every killer. Why? I love him  
> Anyway let's see where this shit goes yee haw

Evan sets the mans body on the floor of the foundry. The trap on his foot scrapes against the concrete loudly, but thankfully the padded jaws won't irritate his current punctures from the trial as much his nastier traps would have. He kneels next to him and hesitates, hands hovering awkwardly the still body. Should he put him into a sitting position or is he more comfortable laying down? Does it even matter in this situation? Probably not. Instead Evan rises and leaves the man to secure the perimeter around the storehouse instead of wasting time debating which mercy is kinder. The fact he was not dead was mercy enough. He knew better than to trust this man to stay put, not that he blames him of course. It would be rather psychotic to sit still and trust him after all Evan had done in the past. 

Once the area out to fifty feet around was secured he returns to the Foundry, closing the door on his way in. The bay doors were lowered and locked, and he had blocked off the stairs with various furniture before the trial in preparation. The only exit was the small side door, easily defendable. The man seemed to be coming too now, making a few grunts of pain as he lifts himself into a sitting position. Without the redfire or thundering heartbeat of a hubt he doesn't notice Evan standing just behind him out of his peripheral vision. 

"Fuck me." The man swears, examing the trap on his leg. 

With surprising precision the man presses his palms against the springs of the trap and pushes down, grunting in a mix of exertion and relief as the jaws part enough for him to slip his foot free. It occures to Evan that of course he would have escaped hundreds, if not thousands, of traps in the long time here. The man wiggles his foot and seems satisfied with the pain level enough to stand. Finally, he turns around and gasps in shock and fear. Immediately his eyes dart away from Evan and he takes off towards the window. 

"I wouldn't do that." Evan warns, knowing a far more painful trap was waiting for him if he jumped out. 

His words stop the man in his tracks and he looks back at Evan, stunned. The glasses reflect the dim lights above them but he can practically see the whites of his eyes. This was the first time he had spoken to one of the survivors. Having made no attempt in the hunts. There was nothing of merit to say to the maggots as they scuttled around him in fear. But now it was time to be civil. 

"What?" The man splutters, stumbling away from as his eyes dart around looking for an alternate escape. 

"I wouldn't try and run if I were you." He repeats firmly, taking a few steps forward only for the man to back away just as fast, "And you know why." 

The mans back hits the cold metal buckets that once held molten iron. He leans heavily against the metal as he starts to edge along it towards the brick wall on his left. Backing himself into a corner. 

"W-what-" He stops mid-question and swallows, "Aren't you going to kill me?" 

"No, not now." Even offers the man a platitude that seems to sooth him ever so slightly. 

He stares down at the man for a long time, waiting for him to speak. Unfortunately his guest seems content to stand in silence as well, eyes shifting around the foundry to get his bearings. It looked different in his home realm compared to the nonsensical battlefield, no broken walls, the doors worked, a distinct lack of generators and trunks. No doubt it was throwing the man for a loop. He picks his words carefully when it becomes clear to that the other is not going to speak unless spoken to. 

"What is your name, lad?" 

"Dwight Fairfield." His response his mechanical and lifeless. After saying it he frowns as if regretting giving out that information. Then again it was also on the nametag attached to his blue blazer. Evan would find it out eventually. 

"My name is-" 

"No!" Dwight interrupts, holding his hands out as if to physically stop him, "I don't want to know your name I-" 

Anger flares through him and Dwight glares at him. 

"Why the hell am I here?" Dwight demands, taking a suprsingly brave step forward. 

"Watch your language, boy." Evan warns, immedietly causing the previous conviction to crumble as he steps back again, "Why do you think your here?" 

"Uh..." Dwight titls his head in thought before shrugging, "I...dunno. A guinea pig for your new traps?" 

"No." 

Dwight crosses his arms and huffs, "Look whatever the hell you want to do to me I don't care. Just...get it over with." 

Right, he better cut to the chase. Introductions were out of the way and now he could really talk buisness. That's one of the reasons he choose Dwight, he was without a doubt a cool headed businessman that lead his team to victory quite often. Evan felt confident that he would be open and willing to cordial information sharing. 

"Right Mr. Fairfield, I wanted to talk to you about the battles." Evan starts carefully, "And your relationship with the Entity." 

"...What?" Dwight rubs his eyes under his glassses and looks incredibly put upon by a simple request, "Why are you even asking?" 

"I'd like to know." 

"Is this some form of psychological warfare?" Dwight snorts and shakes his head with a almost hysterical laugh, "I can't believe this, are you really so bad at killing us now that you're asking for help?" 

Red hot rage lights in Evan and he lunges forward, grabbing Dwight by the throat and lifting him until the toes of his shoes barely scrape the ground before shoving him against the hard brick wall. The mans head bangs against the stone and his glasses fall off his face from the force, clattering to the ground as Evan leans in with menace. The men's nails scratch feebly at his hands and suprsingly enough draw a bit of blood from him. How odd. 

"Listen here, _boy_." Evan hisses, earning a whimper from Dwight, "I don't need any help cutting you and those other maggots down like the invalids you are." 

He squeezes hard and shakes Dwight for emphasis, "Do you **understand boy?"**

Dwight nods, letting out a choked wheeze as soon as he loosen his grip on the mans throat. Lowering him before he draws his hand back. Content that he had asserted his dominance. Dwight gasps as he crouches down to feel around for his glasses, meek and adequately put into place. He enjoys the power of being able to threaten another with word's. It had been far too long. 

"Now, boy. I'm going to ask again-" 

Dwight darts under his arm with suprsing agility for his size, checking his side with his shoulder and making him stumble as he sprints towards the door. Evan rolls his eyes and walks after him. Watching him struggle momentarily at the door before throwing it open and running out into the Shelter Woods. He watches Dwight avoid the grass patches on instinct from the doorway of the foundry, almost getting out side of the perimeter when he weaves around a decoy trap right into the one in the middle of the path. 

His scream of pain startles the crows from the trees, and Evan shakes his head as he approaches the man, stopping for a moment to loom over him. Allowing his unnerving presence to scare the disobedient man further. Dwight's hands are slick with blood from the sharp serrated jaws of the trap. He crouches infront of Dwight, sadistic smile creeping on his face. 

"Told you so." Evan laughs as Dwight grunts in pain. He presses down on the springs for him. Dwight groans as he pulls his other foot out of the trap, "Now can you be civil." 

Dwight glares at him with hatred and contempt he had only seen in the eyes of his father. It's enough to make him feel uncomfortable and look away first. Although he doubts Dwight can see his eyes through his mask. 

"Listen to me, Trapper." Dwight starts. 

Trapper? He liked that little nickname. Was that what the other maggots called him? 

"You can hurt me all you want, I really don't care anymore. If you kill me I'll just pop back out in my forest where I always go. You know I've had my tongue ripped out, head bitten off, a harpoon shot through my back, literally gutted by some teenager, and things far worse than anything you've do ever done to me. I'm not scared of you. 

He had a point there. Threats and bodily harm would mean nothing to this man. Unless he could make those threats effective. 

"Ain't how it works here." Trapper lies, enjoying the fresh fear and shock washing over the mans face, "If you're not strong enough to fend for yourself, well....ain't no point bein' one of us." 

Dwight looks down at his leg, the bloody trap and finally back up at Evan in horror. He smiles under the mask again and gently rests a hand on his shoulder. 

"You best be afraid of me boy, I'm the only thing keeping you from those other monsters in the Fog." He feels prideful at this lie, he had never been very good at lying in his younger years and hadn't needed to practice in the Fog. Although he wasn't sure if this was a lie or not, he hadn't tried to kill another killer that stalked the Fog. 

"Do you understand?" 

Dwight nods, he pulls his legs to his chest in an attempt to make himself smaller. Evan stands and holds his hand out to the man. 

"Here, we can go back to my house to where you're more comfortable. Then we can talk." 

The man blinks at him before tentatively taking his hand and pulling himself up. A soft grunt of pain sounds as he now blances on both injured legs. 

"Alright. I'll tell you what I can." He grumbles, "Can I leave after?" 

"Of course." Evan says, stepping aside and motioning down the path, "You go first." 

Nodding in defeat Dwight limps ahead, slowly making his way down the path into Shelter Woods. They would pass by the Coal Tower before arriving at the place he still called home. It was a impressive Tudor Mansion with four rooms and at least three bathrooms of the latest technology. His father would stand on the back balcony and study the men moving between the mines and foundy with a watchful evil eye when he was wheelchair bound. He gently nudges Dwight to left, narrowly avoiding a trap as they emerge from the woods and his house comes into view. 

"I've...never seen this place before..." Dwight murmurs, sounding impressed at the sight of the house. 

"It doesn't appear in trials, most of our homes don't. They're not places to be shared without consent." Evan explains as they walk through the once beautiful garden now rotten and desolate. Though it seems to bloom with monsterous glowing flowers every now and again. 

He opens the door and allows Dwight to limp into his home. It almost gives him the warm fuzzies being a host. He reaches up and removes his mask, walking past the man into the parlor. Where once his father's hunting trophies and rifles hung on the soft pink wall Evan had instead placed his collection of masks. Some gifted to him by the Entity, and others gifts from his fellow killers in the Fog. The mask he had been wearing was a personal favorite, the original offering to him by the thing in the dark when he first arrived in the Fog. It held sentimental value, stained with rusty blood and worn around the edges. He always wore it when doing something he felt was particularly important, and he sets it on the mantle above the fireplace. He turns back to Dwight who was standing in the doorway and staring at the floor. 

"Go into the kitchen and take a seat." 

The man complies, limping down the hall and turning into the room. Evan grabs a medkit he had pillaged from one of the past survivor's corpses from the coat closet and joins Dwight in the kitchen. He sets the medkit on the table and goes to the sink, filling a bowl with warm water and grabbing a cloth from the drawers. Taking the supplies he sits next to the man at the table, who was staring dutifully at the western wall and not at him. Before he can take Dwight's leg the man pulls the bowl of water forward and grabs the cloth from the table. Kicking his shoe off, rolling his pant leg up he starts to clean off the blood and grime off himself. 

Evan lowes his hands and sits back, watching Dwight administer first aid with well practiced precision. Applying butterfly bandages to the deeper of the cuts before winding a gauze bandage around the entire area of the bite. He ties it off with a knot and pulls his shoe on. A check of the other leg reveals nasty bruises, but nothing in need of first aid. Padded traps had their uses. 

"So what now?" Dwight's voice is soft as he stares at his hands curled in his lap. 

Right, the whole point of this excursion was to learn more about the other side. He fishes out his journal from a pocket of his coveralls and flips over to his page of questions. He notices a small smile alight on Dwight's face at the action. 

"Hmm?" 

"Oh uh, sorry I...guess I didn't expect you to have it all written down." Dwight admits, brown eyes finally trailing up to his face and quickly darting away, "So uh, what's the first question?" 

Evan looks down at the list and rests his finger on the first line. 

"What abilities has the Entity bestowed upon you?" 

Dwight blinks at him and shrugs, "Uh, abilities?" 

"Yes, abilities." 

He watches Dwight think this simple question over and begins to grow annoyed at how long this was going to take. 

"From...the Enitity?" 

"Yes." 

"Sometimes I can...see others...." Dwight trails off, waving a hand in an attempt to find the words. 

"Their auras?" Evan fills in. 

"Yeah those! I see them when someone comes kinda close to me." 

Evan writes that down with his pen, noding, "Interesting, what else." 

"That's it." 

He levels the man with a stern look, and Dwight immedietly looks out the kitchen window. Fiddling with his bracelets nervously. 

"Everyone has three. What else." 

"That's it!" 

Evan sighs, making another note that perhapse survivors only have one. He wasn't going to let himself get angry and lash out. 

"Us killers have abilities granted by the Entity. I'm sure you've seen some of the things we can do. Those with a close connection to the Entity have stronger abilities than others." 

"Uh-huh." Dwight mumbles, not seeming to understand what he was saying. 

"Now let's move on to-" 

"Trapper." Dwight interuppts, causing a flare of anger as he glares at his captive. He hated getting interuppted. 

"This is uh, fun and all but...I...I don't think I'm the best person to ask all this stuff. I don't have a strong bond with the Entity, I just...kinda exist here. Can I leave?" 

"No." Evan growls, trying to control himself "You are going to answer my questions." 

Dwight sinks in his chair meekly, glancing up at Evan with his tired eyes before looking away. It was obvious he was worn out, having put up a good fight in their hunt, the bloodly hole in his clothing was testament to that. Evan found it harde to catch some of the older survivors, ones he had faced off against thousands of times. Particularly the man infront of him, he deserved some mercy after all that. Even if a small one. They had nothing but time here. He tucks the journal and pen into his pocket and rises. 

"Come with me." 

Obediently Dwight stands, light footsteps following Evan as he ascends the stairs. They pass a few doors before Evan settles on giving Dwight the guest room furthest from the stairs. It would give him enough time to react if he made a run for it. He opens the door and allows Dwight to enter the room. It was decorated by his mother and untouched since then. Dust doesn't accumulate in the realms of the Entity so the room was cleaner than in Evan's memories. A floral red quilt was spread on the large bed, and scenic painting of a river above the desk. It made him feel nostalgic. 

"You may sleep here." Evan says, watching Dwight marvel at the room. 

The man reverently runs a hand over the soft quilt before looking back at Evan. 

"Sleep?" He asks, looking down at the bed, "Am I safe here?" 

Evan frowns, tilting his head curiously., 

"If I fall asleep out in the woods sometimes we go to...the Nightmare." Dwight says, staring longingly at the clean sheets, "And if what you said is true I don't want to risk seeing it." 

"I believe it is safe here." Evan offers, unfamiliar with the killer that Dwight was referring to, "I've encountered no such creature in my dreams." 

Dwight nods removing his stained blazer and laying it over the back of a chair. His yellow hooded sweater was spared most of the grime of the trial, besides the gaping bloodly hole where he had been hung. He grabs the back of the garment and pulls it over his head to reveal the familar button up and red tie. Dwight glances back at Evan briefly before undoing his tie. In that moment he realizes he was overstepping his boundaries by standing around and staring at Dwight undress for no reason other than being overbearing. 

"If you need anything I'll be in my study." Evan says, stepping out of the room, "I don't think I have to warn you not to run off. 

"I won't." Dwight murmurs, voice impossibly heavy with fatigue. 

He closes the door softly and makes his way downstairs towards the Washroo. He scrubs his hands in the sink, watching the blood flow with the water down the drain into the abyss under the house. Dwight was the key to his escape from this realm. He was certain of it. All he needed was a little more mercy.


	2. Double or Nothing

Dwight wakes up to the faint and always terrifying sound of a rusty trap being set. He sits up in the bed, eyes darting around the empty unfamiliar room. No Trapper. Not inside at least. A snap and he flinches. No scream follows after the snap however. It was just him and the Trapper in the house after all. If there was a scream it would only mean more problems. He stands, wincing at the pain flaring from his shin. In a normal trial his leg would be in perfect shape by now, but here it was healing at half that rate. Removing the bandages reveals crusty ugly scabs threatening to tear open and dried blood. At least his bruise had healed. 

Another snap. Curiously he limps over to the window Peeking out the white lace curtain he finds it faces the back garden. Trapper was standing amidst the rotten flowers setting a trap. No mask adorned his face as he worked. The blue murky light of the realm cast odd shadows on him that almost resembled a mask in its own right. Dwight was disgusted at how human a monster like that could look. Just standing in his garden testing his traps like they weren't tools of savagery. He backs away from the window. This whole situation was so weird he couldn't even be shocked anymore. At least it was slightly better than getting strung up on a meathook like a pig. Trapper hadn't hurt him since he got here and as long as it stayed that way Dwight was happy to answer whatever dumb questions the man had for him. Whatever kept him out of trials. 

He ties his sweater around his waist and closes his eyes, drawing up the need for companionship before opening them to look around for the golden glow of anyone around to help him. Unsurprisingly there was nothing in the distance, and he turns back to the window. Gasping in fear at the bright golden outline of a hulking figure in the distance. 

Dwight covers his eyes with his hands, pressing his fingers into them until bright colors flash painfully over his lids. When he opens his eyes the figure is gone. 

"What the fuck." He whispers to himself. Mind racing at the implications of even seeing Trappers silhouette. 

Did that mean he was...an ally? Or was he just not intending to kill him. Either way It was viscerally unsettling to see that hulking figure in a way he would see his friends. 

A creak brings him out of his thoughts. He hadn't the traps in a bit. Quickly he stands glancing around the room for some sort of weapon. On the desk sat a heafty looking paperweight in the shape of a sphere with something in it. Dwight grabs it, finding it fits perfectly in his palm like a small apple. Subtly he hides it as a rapping sounds from the door. 

"Dwight? Are you awake?" 

"Y-yeah!" 

"May I come in?" 

The fact he was asking was nice, but he won't give him brownie points for it. 

"Sure." 

The door opens and Trapper stands in the threshold. The man looked....oddly normal sized now. 

"Did you sleep well?" 

Dwight nods, sweaty hand clenching the paperweight for dear life. Trapper smiles, scars on his face morphing in a ghoulish manner. 

"Lovely. There's a washroom next door and your free to use it. Hot water flows freely here so there's no wait. You can meet me in my study." 

They stare at eachother in horrible silence. Right last...night? Trapper peppered him with incomprehensible questions. Guess round two was inevitable. 

"Do...is there other clothes I can change into?" 

Trapper points at the ornate dresser in the corner, "You'll be suprised what you find." 

With that the man closes the door and leaves Dwight alone again. He lets out a slow breath of relief and looks at the paper weight. In the glass depths swirls a fog not unlike the one outside. Dwight stares at it curiously before putting it back in pocket of his hoodie. Just in case. Inside the dresser are neatly folded stacks of clothing. They aren't all familiar but he does recognize a few as his own, and a couple tank tops resemble ones Nea had worn among other teammates shirts. Idly he fishes out white shirt. Another drawer is full of various hoodies, he takes his black and red one. Eagar to be out of his grimey layers but still wanting pocket space. Finally he grabs a pair of black jeans, darker clothes was always best out here. With a bundle of clean clothes he shuffles out of the guest room and opens the door next to it. 

The washroom was odd. Ornate in every way and completely unfitting of the monster who dwelled below. The walls were pastle lavender, contrasting with the pale pink sink and claw footed tub; also pale pink. A soft white curtain hung from a suspended metal ring above the tub. Thankfully there was a shower head attached as well. He didn't want to soak open wounds in nasty water. He drops his fresh clothing in the sink before locking the bathroom door. 

Its hard not to catch his reflection in the massive gaudy mirror over the sink. Sadly he takes in himself for the first time in a long time. A dirt and blood smeared miserable face of a stranger. Dark eyebags to really add to the raw suffering look. He takes his glasses off, blurring the reflection and turning away as he starts to undress. 

Shivering he pauses with his hands at his belt. Being fully naked was a scary thought. Even though the door was locked its not like he was ever safe. He glances at the door. Ignoring his apprehension Dwight closes his eyes, and wishes for help. 

Upon opening them the Trappers blurry form appears. Below him abf off to side. Hands moving over something in an action he can't quite understand. He closes his eyes to banish the vision. That made him feel much better knowing Trapper was far off. Slightly assured he pulls off his jeans and kicks them into the pile of soiled clothes. Dwight leaves his boxers on for the time being, turning the shower on and adjusting the water to nice steamy shower. With the water at an adequate temperature he removes his boxers and checks his wounds once more. The flesh had stiched together more so thankfully they didn't need redressed at this point. Fully exposed he steps into the spray before closes the curtain. 

Water runs over his body. Utter bliss washers over him and he stands in the spray with his eyes closed. Unmoving and relaxed. After a few minutes something feels weird. The water was almost slimy as it oozes down his skin. Upon opening his eyes the blurry liquid swirls in the drain a little too slowly. Its disgusting and as quickly as he got in he wants out. Nevertheless the 'water' does its job and washes away the layer of dirt and grime on his skin. As nasty as it is he still rubs the liquid through his hair to get the crusty dried blood out. Once all the dirt is off he shits the water off quickly. Grabbing a plush towel from a caddy next to the tub and scrubbing all the nasty residue the not water left on him off. He doesn't feel as clean as his skin looks and he dresses fast to put his shower behind him. 

Before he leaves he grabs the paperweight from his soiled hoodie and slips it into his pocket. It bulges obviously but Trapper wouldn't notice. He returns to the guest room in search his shoes, but the room is empty when he enters and despite searching under the bed and in the closet they seemed to have vanished leaving him stuck in a pair of socks, a familiar situation unfortunately. 

"Okay. Fuck time to go do this." Dwight mutters, finally limping down the hall towards the steps. 

He wasn't exactly sure where the study was. Probably just past the creepy mask room where Trapper's aura had been. The house was so bizarre as he walked silently through the living area. Familiar masks that tormented him countless times stare at him. The wallpaper of the room was a soft pastel peach and matching light blue furniture. All the dirt and blood tracked in from last night was gone. The room was steril, borderline quaint, and utterly horrifying. He hurries through to an arched doorway leading to a small hallway. At the end of it looms an oak door so dark brown its almost black. Cutting through the bright interior design like a knife. 

That must be the study. Dwight rests his his hand on the cool knob and almost turns it. Trapper knocked before he came in so he should give him that courtesy. Tentativly he taps his knuckles against the oak. The knock was barely audible to him so he raises his fist to knock louder when Trapper speaks. 

"Come in." 

With a slow breath he pulls open the door and steps inside the study. It feels like he's in an entirely new house. No pastels or fancy wallpaper to be seen here. The room was much bigger than he was expecting, almost the size of the living room itself and split almost perfectly in half. One side was a immaculate vintage room befitting of the title study. It looked straight from a museum, dark oaken furniture and high bookshelves filled with books and other trinkets. There was even a almost cartoonist looking golden gramophone with a vinyl record waiting to be spun. 

The other half of the room looked like a butcher picked up the hobby of making machinery. Two long tables were filled with various tools, bear traps, and parts that he shudders to think how they would fit onto the bear traps themselves. 

Trapper was leaning against a table on the super creepy side, using a rag to clean rust and gime off his hands. He was wearing jean coveralls with a tank top under it. Which was really odd considering he usually was shirtless and covered in blood. He looks deceptively normal, even with the twisted bits of metal poking out of the flesh in his shoulder. 

"Oh its you. Take a seat, I'm eagar to get started." 

Dwight looks at the normal side of the room, spotting two chairs next to an end table. He sits in the plush chair and waits for Trapper to start. The man flips through a journal and rubs his chin thoughtfully as he sits at the other chair. Dwight shoves his hands in his pocket to grip the improvised trinket weapon. 

"Last meeting did not go well, but I will recap for you." Trapper says assertively. Dwight hunches over and attempts to appear smaller. 

"I was asking about your abilities, last meeting you told me you had a bond with other little maggots that allowed you to see their auras. If this correct?" 

"Yup, that sums it up well." He offers, not liking the way he called his other survivors maggots. He briefly considers letting Trapper know that he could see him with that ability. It might be better for him to keep that to himself for now though. 

"I believe I explained poorly, but I have done strenuous research on our bonds with the Entity-" 

Dwight assumes 'our was his fellow killers. It was weird to think that they spoke in the first place. 

"-and I've found that most of us have three specific abilities given to us by the Entity to assist us." 

"In murdering the shit out of us?" He can't help but let the bitter remark slip out. Trapper frowns at him sternly. 

"Watch your language boy." 

"Don't call me that." Dwight snaps, finding his patience running short, "I'm practically your age." 

He watches the man very slowly close his eyes and take a deep breath. At least he was exercising anger management. 

"That being said," Trapper forges on, "You should have two other abilities. Do think hard about this." 

Dwight stares at his white socks and shrugs. He knew others had these abilities that Trapper was talking about. Jake never screamed, or made any noises even when his guts were on the ground. And Meg always got this sudden burst of strength when they were about to leave, not to mention her speed and silence moving around. But he and Claudette never seemed to have anything more than a weird ability to see 'auras'. 

"I guess I...can organize a team?" Dwight offers to an annoyed looking Trapper, "And uh...fix those machines?" 

Trapper sighs and writes something on the book. Dwight can barely catch sight of the black curvise, let alone read it from this distance. Hopefully it wasn't a note to kill him in his sleep. 

"Must be sonlme hidden ability. Understandable as I have one as well." Trapper leans back in the chair and looks at him with a thoughtful expression. 

"So are you gonna tell me what they are?" 

The mans lips quirk up in a smile and he flips over to another page in his notebook. 

"I've been told there's an especially monsterous strength and speed I posses at times, I'm sure you could corroborate that." 

That was true. In the thousands of times Trapper and brought him to the monsterous hooks he did so quickly and efficiently. Not to mention the brutality he used when destroying walls or pallets struck fear into him as he ran knowing that same brutality would be used to cut him down. 

"Yeah, you could say that." Dwight agrees running his fingers over the cool glass. He looks at the journal and wonders how much information about others was in that. Information for him and his teammates to use. 

"Are there...other peoples abilities in that?" Dwight asks, looking at Trapper with what he hopes is an innocent expression. 

"Of course. I said _extensive_ research, B- Dwight." Trapper replies, pride thick in his voice. 

It was odd that the man actually listened to his request, but he would dwell on that later. Now he wanted to make this shit worthwhile. Trapper seemed pretty susceptible to praise and he could lay that on thick. He didn't seem to know much about him personally anyway. Aside from that weird proclamation of respect last night. He might be able to use all this to his advantage in a way. Play up a mutual respect relationship and get out of this horrible pastel mansion with all his limbs and more dirt on the killers than a garden store. 

"Wow, so you really talked to the other uh, killers?" 

Trapper shrugs, metal pulls on his skin in a way that makes Dwight sick. 

"I would argue most of them talk to me." Trapper says with a laugh, "As much as I try not to be a social butterfly there's plenty of interesting characters that reside here." 

Thats so weird. He can't imagine the chainsaw maniacs sitting in the pastel kitchen for tea and crumpets with the Trapper. Hell its something him and the others would joke about at the campfire. 

"Do uh, any of them have a really out there ability?" Dwight asks, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. 

"Hmm." Trapper flips a few pages im the note book, "Ms. Smithson has mentioned the ability to see auras of maggots healing. Which is very interesting. I've asked her to show me how its done eventually, but I can't get a feel on that sort of ability." 

Dwight curses inwardly. The last thing he wants to know is the names of these freaks. Unfortunately that would be how Trapper had written it down. Mrs. Smithson could be anyone. 

"So uh, sorry to ask again why did you wanna learn this stuff anyway? Since you uh, obviously are pretty good at killing us what the point of all this." 

Trapper rests his chin in his hand and stares at him openly. Dwight is only able to meet his dark eyes for a few seconds before having to look away. The hand gripping the trinket is ice cold now. He removes his hands from his pocket and rubs them together to get feeling back. 

"Are you attempting to flatter me?" 

Dwight feels a chill down his spine and tries to look suprised, "No- No you're uh super good at-" 

"You and I both know that's not true to you. Maybe its a bloodbath for your fellow trash." Trapper narrows his eyes at Dwight, voice hard and annoyed, "But I can't even recall the last time I killed you." 

Dwight feels his heart race in his chest at those words. At the subtle threat that hid behind that icey tone. It was true that he and a few others had gotten particularly skilled in running and hiding from Trapper. They had countless encounters it would be difficult not to become accustomed to how he performed. 

"You, uh caught me last time?" Dwight offers, watching nothing change on the Trapper's expression. 

"Barely, and at the cost of three sacrifices." Trapper stands and Dwight presses himself into the back of the chair as the man looks down on him, "It seems I've misjudged you." 

Dwight cringes at the dissapointment in the mans voice. How dare this beast be dissapointed in _him_. After saying that Dwight was a hard opponent to catch. Now suddenly he wasn't good enough? It upsets him. How dare this asshole trash talk him and ask for his assistance. Dwight stands, quickly. Despite not wearing shoes he was eye level with the mans chin. He had definitely been much taller in the trial. This height difference made him much more confident. Trapper titls his head, regarding Dwight with bland curiosity. 

"I really don't give a fuck how you judge me. I'm not going to sit around and play nice with a fucking _monster_. You got your information and I got mine. Now you know I have a fun little perk that lets me see my friends, but now I know that you- you..." He wavers, confidence getting lost in the steady glare Trapper was now giving him. 

"You're afraid of me." Dwight finishes. 

Trapper laughs, he steps away and laughs at Dwight with such vindictive mochery tears prick his eyes. His shoulders sag in defeat as Trapper sets hit notebook on the desk. 

"Me? Afraid of you?" 

Fuck it. Time to double down. He wasn't going to sit here and take this like its a trial. Dwight steps forward and reaches deep inside for the conviction he needs to make Trapper see him as an equal instead of a punching bag. 

"Yes, you admitted it." Dwight says, happy to find he's sounds way more confident than he felt, "You can't catch me and kill three other so called maggots at the same time. Imagine going against me, and the other three who have been here the longest." 

Trapper stares at him, unmoving and unfeeling. Dwight doesn't let it shake him, shoving his hands in his pocket and gripping the paperweight. 

"You just told me what the Entity blessed you with, and I just told you what it blessed me with." Dwight squares his shoulders and looks Trapper dead in his eyes, "Think I can't use that to my teams advantage? Think I can't get every single person out of those hellscapes and leave you with nothing to show for the big bad Entity." 

He sees the man face change as he realizes what Dwight also realized he was threatening. If Trapper didn't do well there had to be some sort of punishment. Maybe those metal bits was a remnant of that. Whatever it was Trapper didn't seem to like the threat. 

"That's why you should-" 

"Mr. McMillian!" A high pitched voice sounds from another room, interuppting Trapper. Dwight turns in fear to look at where its coming from. 

"Yo we know you're home!" Another voice calls as a door opens. 

Panic sets in instsntly and he backs up, bumping into Trapper's chest and yelping in fear. Evan grabs the hood of his hoodie and drags him to the cluttered work area. A strong hand shoves him to his knees. 

"We'll continue this later. Do not let the other killers see you." Trapper warns before walking towards the door. 

Other killers? Fuck, fuck, fuck! Dwight stays low, trying to co trol his breathing. If it was the Doctor he was so fucked. 

"...nd you won't believe what we found out earlier!" A different male voice says as the study door bangs open. 

"Do not slam doors in my house boy." Trapper calls, following behind a familar group of youths. 

The leader of the pack they less than fondly called Legion goes up to the gramophone and crouches to dig through the box of records. 

"I asked like everyone else that would listen if they had a radio and you're the only one what has something thats basically a radio." 

Trapper glances over at Dwight and their eyes meet briefly. The man nods over to a small door a few feet away from him. Dwight nods, starting to slowly make his way over to it as the group seems distracted by whatever the leader guy was doing. 

"I'm sure Max has a Radio on that farmhouse." 

"We don't like that guy." A girl says, glancing idly around the room. He ducks down and hopefully escapes notice. 

She doesn't say anything and he continues crawling to the coat closet, slowly opening the knob and sliding into the space. He leaves the door cracked slightly. Just enough to peek out at the teens infront of him.  
"So we found out that any record we want is also in your collection. So that means we can get music we haven't heard in forever and-" 

"Frank." Trapper interuppts, rubbing his temples in annoyance, "You came to bother me for my records?" 

"Duh." The one named Frank smiles at Trapper. "No one else here likes music the way we do." 

Trapper crosses his arms and looks at the young man sternly, "Fine. I have spare equipment you can borrow." 

"Really!" The four teens cheer in unison as Trapper starts to shoo them out. 

Dwight sighs in relief as they start to the door. Curiousky he closes his eyes and opens them to see...four golden auras. He blinks, stepping out of the closet to get a better look at who the auras belonged to. As he steps out a horrifically familiar feeling of vulnerability floods him. The leader of the pack stops at the doorway and turns around. 

No golden glow surrounded him. Their eyes meet and the young man looks just as suprised to see him. Dwight doesn't hear the familiar heartbeat in his ears, or see the horrible red fire infront of the young adult, but he knows he's looking at a killer. 

"Frank!" Trapper calls sternly, causing the man to glance over, "Get a move on." 

The killer, looks back at Dwight and smiles before turning away and following Trapper out. 

Shit, shit, shit! The one thing Trapper asked him to do and he fucked it up. And he had already made the man super pissed over his insults. Dwight should probably try and make his escape now that Trapper was distracted. He could follow the Legion out since they obviously got here without stepping in traps and- 

The notebook catches his eye first. Slowly he approaches the desk and picks up the item. It was more of a journal, bound with soft leather and gilded pages. Dwight glances over to the door and looks back at the journal. If he was going to get the wrath of an angry Trapper he might as well learn something from it. 

He opens the book and stares at what is not the detailed notes he expected to see. They were two ink portraits in here, really good ones of two killers he recognized as Wraith and one of the chainsaw maniacs. He turns the page to see a incredibly detailed drawing of...himself. it was from memory by the looks of it, even included dirt and blood smeared on his face. It was drawn with much more attention to detail than the two other portraits. Dwight turns the page quickly, a barely started pencil sketch. Weird. 

"Dwight." Trappers voice makes him jump and he drops the book. Turning to face the man who looks dissapointed. 

"I expected a little more respect, but I will let this slide. No one saw you, correct?" 

Dwight nods, not trusting himself to verbally lie as Trapper approachs the desk. He takes the journal and tucks it into his pocket. 

"I'm sorry for...earlier." Dwight mumbles, emotionally drained already "I just don't really enjoy you talking down to me." 

Trapper raises his eyebrows, "But others can talk down to you?" 

Dwight rolls his eyes, "No I just think its particularly annoying from you, knowing what I know now." 

The man lets out a small laugh, its something he seemed to do often. Laugh or chuckle at him for no reason. 

"Oh Dwight if I had known telling that I saw you as a tough opponent would go to your head I would have kept it to myself." Trapper sighs and offer him a suprsingly sincere smile, "You are just as I expected you to be." 

Dwight groans and runs his eyes, "What so now you're back tracking?" 

"I insulted you to test your vigor, and it seems you rise to the challenge. I like that Dwight." 

He stares at Trapper distrustful and starting to become very annoyed at this odd back and forth. Although he can't say he doesn't like the praise. 

"I have big plans for us." Trapper murmurs as he turns away from Dwight, it wasn't probably meant for him to hear but it still stirs a miserable feeling in his gut. 

"Thats enough for niw. You're free to explore as much as you wish, but be careful outside." Trapper says, dismissing him as he starts to fiddle with the metal on his table. 

Dwight stares at his form with a frown. Trapper was a real asshole now that he was getting to know him. One of those guys that never apologizes and never tells the full story. He was like David in a way, rude and insulting just because he thinks he's better than others. At least he has a better grasp on his temper than David's ever shown. 

After staring for God knows how long he turns and leaves the room. Taking the Invitation to explore the mansion, especially since his leg was feeling better. While Trapper is out of sight he remains aware of his presence with his gift. It seemed that those who weren't actively out to harm him were revealed as friends. Unsettling that there was someone out there that was willing to hurt him without even having a reason to. Just when he thought that he would be safe with his gifts out here in the killers realm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have like 6 chapters written out so I think this bad boy will be 10 or so chapters at most, maybe 11 if I'm feeling lucky.


	3. J’adoube

Evan stares at the rebuilt bear trap. The padded jaws worked like a charm to capture his prey, but now it was back to his usual lethality. His thoughts start drifting to the man currently exploring his house now that his hands were idle. 

Dwight had proven to be much more faceted, than originally thought. At first the man seemed much weaker than expected, it was rather disappointing. But it seems that a little sleep and a bath had awken the man he had expected. Dwight wasn't all bark and no bite however. The man did not seem as afraid of him as he was last night by how openly he read through his journal and threatened him. Even if the threat was about outrunning him. 

While he had never performed overtly terribly in the games, he did fear the consequence of disappointing the Entity. It was a heavy presence before and after the games; its wrath was monsterous as he's seen. He did fear that Dwight would make him suffer tremendously if his plan fell through and the man escaped back into the Fog. No way he would be able to recapture him easily now. Evan sighs and looks at his journal. He had started aimlessly finishing the doodle he started last night. It was another sketch of Dwight, this one more detailed. Including the two small beauty marks near his nose he discovered. 

He was a very interesting man to draw. The large glasses hide a plain face that managed to elude his artistic ability to capture it in a way he was satisfied with. Evan closes his journal and leans against his worktable. The metal in his shoulders grinds uncomfortably and he sighs. 

Ever since bringing Dwight here he felt the heavy eyes of the Entity more often. Even now it wants him to kill Dwight, going as far as to let him use his own hands as long as the man dies. Evan was very good at ignoring the nagging voice. Following orders from others was something he loathed. Eventually the being would grow bored and turn its fathomless gaze to whatever other irons it had in the fire. Eventually he would have to go to one of the endless games, but he would put it off for as long as he possibly could in order to for the plan to work. Evan rises and starts towards the door. He had left Dwight alone for a while now, didn't want him to run off for real. He opens the door and walks down the familiar hall, past his mask room and into the kitchen. No sign of the little devil here. But there was signs of snooping. 

A few pot holders and pans are out of place. The cookbook lay open on the counter. It was almost insulting how little care was given to him home. Evan closes the book and tries to be offended by the slight. It was unintentional, no doubt. He takes the time to put the kitchen into proper order before moving on. Once fixed he returns to the mask room to clean up after the little maggot. 

"Oh hey." Dwight greets absently, eyes fixed on the contents of the armoir. Evan stares in shock. Had he missed him? 

"How long were you in here?" 

"Huh, oh a few minutes. You walked right past me." Dwight pulls out the box containing Yahtzee and holds it up, "You have board games?" 

"....Of course." Evan says, tilting his head at the man curiously, "Doesn't everyone?" 

Dwight shrugs and looks at the game in his hands, then at the options in the cupboard. Evan knows what he's going to ask and it makes a feeling similar to watching a unknowing maggot running right into a bear trap. 

"Wanna play? I mean there's not much else to do around here...?" 

"Of course, but I'd rather not play Yahtzee." Evan says. 

He walks towards the armoir, causing Dwight to flinch and step away quickly. He surveys the familiar set of games that were untouched by him or his father for years after his mother passed. Carefully he selected the heavy wooden board tucked away in the back of the cabinet. Curiosity seems to be the source of Dwight's bravery as he feels slight warmth on his shoulder as Dwight peeks over an arm to see what he was selecting. 

"Chess?" 

"I prefere strategy over luck." 

Evan can't help a small chuckle escape from him as he transports the board to the low table, taking a seat on his father's chair. Dwight follows and sits on the couch. Once again his posture is tense and nervous. Hands in his pockets. No manners this boy. 

"I don't know why I'm suprised." Dwight says as Evan sets up the board. 

"What color would you like?" He offers, setting the last few pawns into place. 

"...Uh black? I guess." Dwight says, staring at the board with nothing but confusion. 

Evan doesn't reply, instead he takes a pawn and moves it forward. Dwight blinks owlishly at the board and moves one pawn up in the same way he had moved his own. He looks at Dwight, who sits back and looks at him. 

Evan takes Dwight's pawn, and the man sighs. 

"Trapper I don't actually know how to play chess." Dwight admits, "I can uh, play checkers?" 

"Checkers?" Evan parrots, trying not to laugh. 

"Yeah! With the red and black pieces!" Dwight perks up a bit, "I'm not actually as smart as I look." 

He frowns, not liking the way Dwight talked down about himself. It reflected badly on him and his judgment. 

"I'll teach you how to play." 

"...I don't..." 

Evan sits up and barrels over Dwight's protest as he picks up the mans lost pawn. 

"These are pawns, an unmoved pawn can move two spaces forward. Otherwise they can only move one empty space forward at a time, and only capture diagonally. There are a few notable things about them, but those are the basics." 

Dwight nods, wringing his hands nervously. 

"These two at the ends are Rooks. They move in straight lines in any direction except diagonally." 

"Right..." 

"These are Bishops, they move like Rooks except only diagonally. And these are Knights, they move in an L shape. Two up and two over, or vice versa. Now the King can move in any direction, but one space at a time. It can capture pieces but if it is captured the game is over." Evan explains, unable to keep an excited smile off his face. It wasn't often he had a captive audience for chess. 

"Finally the Queen. Its the most powerful piece on the board. It can move as any other piece, except the Knight." Evan looks up, about to ask for questions only to meet Dwight's light brown eyes looking at him. The man had a small smile on his face, and raises his eyebrows at Evan's obvious pause in monolog. 

"That doesn't seem too complex." Dwight says, reaching down and moving a pawn, "You'll go easy on me, right Trapper?" 

He holds in a laugh, and moves a pawn, "I never go easy on you, Dwight." 

"You went easy on me when you brought me here. I thought those padded traps were a big joke!" 

"Only for you to stick yourself with a particularly nasty one right after." Evan shoots back, earning a huff from the other man as he stares at the board, "How is your leg?" 

Dwight moves a piece and sets his foot on the table, rolling the pant leg up enough to reveal a row of scabbed over wounds. Evan glares in disgust at his feet up on the table, but keeps his mouth shut. Dwight just didn't know any better. He reaches over presses a few fingers to the skin between the scabs. It was warm, but not hot. The wounds were dry and while quite nasty looking he had seen much worse. 

"Taking a while to heal." Dwight comments, rolling his pant leg down, "The bruises are gone so...guess its my own fault for having it." 

"Good. Thats what I designed them to do." Evan allows himself to be prideful as Dwight rolls his eyes. 

"Whatever." 

He watches Dwight capture his Rook, and quickly takes the Bishop responsible with his Queen. Its interesting to watch the man play. It was obviously his first match ever but the man showed an impressive game sense that matched the competence he had in more lethal trials and tribulations. A cautious approach, wary of his many traps but stepping in them anyway. Reminds him of older times when he could catch the man as easily as tying his boots. With enough time Dwight could become a rival to him and Herman no doubt. 

"Check." Evan offers, staring at Dwight's king backed into a corner with cream colored death approaching. 

"Fuck." 

"Language." 

Dwight glares at him before rubbing his chin and moving his King back a step. Ever so cautiously. Evan slides his Rook into place, and grins. 

"Check _mate_." 

"What! Bullshit how-" 

Evan gently taps the top of his Queen, who now had a perfect shot at the King. The only place Dwight could move was right infront of his Rook, or a sidestep right next to his Bishop. 

Dwight sighs dramatically and lays back on the couch, "Fine. You win." 

"Of course I win. The only rookie that can beat me in chess is my own child." 

"Oh I'd hate to see the little brat you raise." Dwight snaps, shockingly bitter over his defeat. 

"Are you upset? It was just a game." Evan pacifies, deciding to let the insult slide this one time. Despite pushing his luck it was becoming hard for him to get genuinely angry at the other. 

Dwight looks at him carefully, trying to see if the he was angry or not by the looks of it. Fibally he shrugs and stands, joints popping audibly as he walks towards the armoir. Evan watches him grab an unassuming pack of cards from the recesses and feels his heart sink. 

"Now we're gonna play a game I'm good at!" Dwight says proudly, returning to the couch and opening the tin of cards. 

"Go fish?" Evan teases, watching Dwight shuffle the cards with flair. 

"No. You see there's this guy here named Ace, only person in the whole Fog who carries a unsealed pack of playing cards on him at all times." Dwight explains, "And he taught me how to play poker." 

Evan raises his eyebrows, feeling extremely unthreatened, "I believe I've seen him around, annoyingly slippery that one. But his cocky nature has killed him more than helped him." 

Dwight shrugs, "Do you know how to play Texas Hold 'Em?" 

"No." Evan lies quickly, not confident in his poker skills. 

"Thats fine, how about Blackjack?"  
"Thats suitable, even if its more about luck than strategy." Evan says with a dismissive hand wave. 

Dwight doesn't reply to the insult, instead dealing Evan two face down cards. To himself a face down card and face up card. Begrudgingly he picks up the cards, staring at a seven and an eight. That brings him to fifteen. He needs a six to hit twenty one perfectly. Dwight's face up card is an ace, which means he has decent odds here. Dwight looks at him and smiles in a way that makes his heart sputter. 

"Hit?" 

"Yes." 

Dwight deals him a four face up, bringing him to nineteen. He feels safe enough with that. The other man deals himself a five looks at him with that placid smile on his face. There was no obvious sign that he had the upperhand or not. Either way with the cards Dwight had the poor fellow either busted or isn't near twenty one. 

"Stand." Evan says, confident in his victory. 

"I stand too." Dwight says, unfazed by his confidence. 

Evan shows his cards, and smiles at Dwight. The smile quickly falls as the man flips the facedown card to reveal another five. Bringing him to a perfect twenty one. He scowls glaring at Dwight as the man laughs. 

"Trapper you are terrible liar." Dwight teases, collecting the cards and shuffling them, "Good thing we didn't bet anything, huh?" 

He rolls his eyes, packing the chess board up and refusing to let the gloating outwardly annoy him as he replaces the game in the armoir. Turning back to his captive he find him staring at the deck of cards with a meloncholy look. Strangely it makes him feel concerned for the man. 

"You...you're not a bad man." Dwight whispers, almost to himself. 

The words make his stomach twist. Dwight was a very good liar. He almost believes that statement. Instead of correcting him Evan decides to offer a platitude. 

"Hmm?" 

"I..." Dwight sighs and runs his fingers through his hair, "I thought you were going to...torture me I guess. But instead were just...playing games? Like were new friends or something and-and..." Dwight trails off with a sigh, leaning back and looking at Evan. 

He stands strong under the gaze of the man he had played cat and mouse for countless hours. Though they had only spoken recently he feels as if they share a impossibly strong bond despite that. They know eachother in the broad strokes only and now to see the quirks in Dwight character, and even more menacing for Dwight to see the cracks in his facade. 

"Why do you hurt us?" Dwight asks finally, looking around the room at the dozens of masks that hung from the walls. He could feel the Entity peeking out of the eyeholes. 

"It's hard to explain..." Evan offers as a platitude, "There's...there's a force that pushes some of us..." 

Dwight stares into the eyes of his original mask. It was worn around the edges, rough bits gouged out from various beating Evan had endures. Most importantly covered in dried blood. 

"The Entity?" 

Whispers bear down on Evan, monumental pressure in his mind urging him to kill. His hand twitches, but his weapons were not kept in here. Dwight would never know how lucky that made him. 

"Yes. It...it pushes us to do what we do." 

Dwight looks at him in pity, and he burns under the gaze. It wasn't a complete lie of course. 

"I'm sorry to hear that. I-It doesn't mean I forgive you of course." Dwight says quickly, "But I uh...I understand you more." 

The weight of the Entity leaves in disgust. Now was the perfect opportunity to tell Dwight his plan. He sits next to him on the couch, scooting closer despite him trying to scoot away as he pulls out his journal. Flipping to a page that geld his notes on the Entity. 

"Thats why I brought you here." Evan whispers, leaning in and speaking fast as he shows the man his journal, "I want to leave this place as much as you. I hate the killing." He lies. 

"What is this?" Dwight whispers back in confusion. 

"Its my notes on the Entity. I find we, the hunters, have a closer bond than you the survivors. So I've been able to figure out how it may be working in the broadest of senses." Evan was speaking fast, hopefully not too fast for Dwight to understand, "At the edges of our realms is a cliff that leads to they abyss, but there is Fog there. I think that the Fog is a sort of environment of the Entity and not a part of it." 

Evan turns the page to show him not of the Fog. 

"Like how fish live in water the Fog is a means of transport here. It works on the part of will power. Thinking about a certain place or thing will make it so. Frank- the man who stopped by earlier, was using that concept to procure music from his memory!" 

Dwight stares at him with a blank expression. His mouth was slightly open and Evan fears he's loosing him. 

"So...you...want to go into the Fog?" Dwight says in an asinine way that snaps his patience like a twig. 

Evan snaps the book shut and rises. Immedietly putting distance between him and Dwight so he doesn't break his jaw. 

"No." He growls, "I want to get others who wish to escape and gather them together in the Fog. With enough willpower to escape I believe the Fog will transport us to an Exit." 

Understand light in Dwight eyes and he jumps up, stumbling slightly due to his injurey. Evan steaps forward and catches his shoulder only for Dwight to grab the straps of his overalls, practically bouncing from joy. 

"Trapper you're a genius!!" His smile was so bright he can't tear his eyes away, "God I could kiss you right now!" 

Dwight pulls away before he can respond with violence, mumbling to himself estaticslly. 

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" 

"I uh, didn't think you would listen if I dripped it on you like that. And the Enitity was keeping a close eye on us." Evan replies with a shrug. His white lies seem to have completely won Dwight over at the very least. 

Dwight stops his celebration and frowns, "You're right...how are we going to get the other survivors to come with me?" 

Evan ignores the familar way his stomach twists at the way Dwight says we. It had been so long since he felt these snall tugging of emotions he had almost completely forgotten he could feel them. 

"Another reason I chose you." Evan says, stepping closer to Dwight. The man doesn't flinch away this time, "I think you can convince them to put a little bit of trust in me." 

Dwight runs his eyes over Evan again, and his skin feels warm. Hopefully Dwight doesn't notice as he glances around the room. 

"I think I can do that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still chugging along with this


	4. Ante

Dwight lays in bed and isn't able to sleep. One day and he was already bored of that small mercy, huh? He blames it on the excitment of escaping this nightmare. Throwing off the quilt he slides out of bed and stretches. The wound on his leg was now complete healed, just a bunch of pale pink scars. He had changed into pajamas to get comfortable sleep before he would have to head back to the campsite, but maybe he would just go hang out with Trapper more. Guy was growing on him. Just before he leaves he grabs the paperweight from the desk and shoves it in his sweatpants pocket. 

He trots down the stairs, almost slipping on the hardwood due to his socks but he barely keeps his balance. Trapper's aura showed him in the study again, so Dwight makes his way towards the room. Knocking on the heavy oak with more confidence than earlier. 

"Come in." 

Dwight pushes the door open and steps inside. Trapper smiles at him, toiling away at his traps. 

"Couldn't sleep?" 

"No." Dwight walks over to the gramophone and crouches down to dig through the box of records, "Funny isn't it? Haven't had a bed or the ability to sleep in forever and now I can't." 

He pulls out an unmarked album and sets it on the platter before lowering the needle. Immedietly Savage Garden starts playing and he smiles. 

"I might have something to help you sleep." Trapper says, walking over to the desk and crouching down. He pulls out a bottle of dark amber liquid out of a drawer, "Hope you don't mine Seagrams or Gordon." 

Oh, that's absolutely whiskey. Dwight bites his lip nervously. Alcohol is partially to blame for getting in here, but then again this probably wasn't as strong as that guys moonshine. He could take it. 

"I'll take it." 

Trapper pours him a half glass of the dark amber liquid. He takes a sip and makes a face as it burns. The other man laughs and downs his glass quickly before pouring another one. The song switches to Burning Down The House. 

"What on earth is this?" Trapper complains, looking pointedly at the gramophone. 

"Talking Heads?" 

"Its awful." 

Dwight laughs, walking around the desk and spinning the chair around, "Can I sit here?" 

Trapper looks him up and down so openly Dwight feels embarrassed. He must pass the weird test because he shrugs and waves a hand. 

"Don't mess with anything." 

He sits in the plush leather seat. As much as would like to kick his feet up that was no doubt going to far. They drink in silence for a few moments as Burning Down The House ends and I Want You by Savage Garden starts. 

Halfway through his drink he starts to feel a good buzz. The world turning nice and fuzzy around the edges, burn of liquor being the only sharpness. 

"Why do you live here?" Dwight asks, watching Trapper sit at the other chair and write in his notebook. 

"Its my home." 

"No like...why is it all...pastel?" Dwight laughs and pours himself more of the Gorden, "Its not like you at all." 

"My mother was a fan of the trends. When we had it built Art Deco was the fashion of the time so she made sure the entire house matched the aesthetic." Trapper explains, sipping from his glass with a sad look on his face, "Except this room of course. It was my late father's study." 

Dwight nods, looking around the room once again. It was so much different than the rest of the house its not suprsing it was curated by someone else. He sips his drink and stirs that thought around in his mind for a bit. 

"Wait you lived with your parents?" 

"Well yes. I assume most everyone does." 

Dwight snickers leaning forward and resting his elbows on the desk, "Like did you live with them until you were like....thirty?" 

Trapper looks at him like he was trying to explain something to a child. 

"I worked in the mines my father owned owned, so of course I lived with them." 

Dwight downs his drink and stands, wobbling slightly as the the world spins. Nevertheless he manages to stumble over to the record player and try to swap out the songs. 

"I moved out when I was nineteen!" He brags, struggling to pull the vinyl out of the sleeve. 

A glass is pressed into his hand as Trapper takes the record from him. Without thinking he downs the contents of the glass in a few gulps as the song switches. 

"Boy why on earth did you do that?" Trapper chides with a laugh, taking the glass back and going to refill it. 

"Sorry." He watches the man refill his drink and stumbles towards him, "Okay you know what I did not expect from you? Big bad Trap Man?" 

Trapper turns to stare at him with his eyebrows raised. 

"You laugh allll the time. Like, a ridiculous amount. You're like...Mr...Mr....Chuckles!" Dwight laughs at that, and can hear Trapper laughing as well. 

"Chuckles?" Trapper asks, tilting his head as he stares at him. 

"Yeah! Chuckles!" Dwight stumbles again but manages to catch and lean against the desk. The expression on Trappers face changes instantly, and the man licks his lips. His knees feel weak so he pushes himself up and sits on the heavy polished oak, "Would you be mad if I called you that?" 

Trapper moves in front of him, resting his muscular arms on the edge of the desk, trapping him in place. Dwight smiles up at him. He feels light and bubbly. Like he could do anything he wanted to. Though he couldn't quite remember the last time he got blackout, the few memories he did have were mostly of him acting like a fool. 

"Chuckles? You okay?" 

"I'm fine." The man says, voice low and gruff. Dwight blinks, trying to discern the emotions flaring up in the mans dark brown eyes. 

Idly he kicks his feet out a bit and his socks brush against Trapper's jeans. He tilts his head, staring at the mans chest. Was he just now noticing that Trapper was built as hell? His eyes trail over to the twisted metal and the hard bicep. He had felt it wrapped around his hips many times and knew that iron grasp better than most. Still he reaches out and runs his fingers over the rock hard bicep. Under his touch Trapper shudders slightly, and a glance at the mans face reveals that he had closed his eyes. It had probably been a long time since Trapper had contact like this. At the campfire it wasn't to strange to ask for hugs and physical comfort. Being all locked up in a childhood house, forced to kill with only other maniacs for comfort. Pity flares up through the alcohol and he decides to do something brave. 

Leaning his forward he wraps his arms around Trapper's broad chest. The man is still as a bored but that doesn't stop him from resting his head against the shoulder not mangled with metal. 

"What are you doing." Trapper whispers. 

"Hugging you. Hug me back, Chuckles." 

Slowly two muscular arms wrap around Dwight, holding him as if he was made of glass. Dwight squeezes him a bit, and that seems to break the spell. Trapper rests his chin on Dwight's head and gently squeezes him back. The man is warm, he smells of brass and iron. Which might have been blood. Either way Dwight closes his eyes and enjoys the simplicity of human contact. Even if its with a man that murdered him countless times. Slowly he starts to rub Trappers back in slow circles, feeling him slowly relaxe into the hug. 

"There, there big guy." 

"Watch it." Trapper murmers. 

The man is still for an entire song before Dwight feels him take a deep breath and pull away. Dwight smiles at him, arms lingering on on his sides before resting them in his lap. Trapper takes a few steps back and turns away. Dwight stares at his back. There was no way he had made him uncomfortable, right? No maybe he was just overwhelmed with emotion at the first hug he's had since getting here. 

"You should turn in for the night." 

Dwight snorts, picking up the bottle of Seagrams and drinks directly from it. He was loosing his buzz from the heartfelt emotions. 

"Oh no way, I'm in party mode now." He says, jumping down from the desk and swaying heavily, "The only way you're getting me to bed is by _taking_ me to bed." 

Trapper snorts, turning to look at Dwight with a stern expression, "You say that as if I haven't taken you to many other places." 

Dwight waves his hand, dismissing such ridiculous claims, "Psh, thats in a trial! When you're like all big and scary! Here you're barely taller than me in boots!" 

Trapper moves forward with a shocking speed and grabs his hips. He yelps as Trapper grunts and hefts him over his shoulder. Dwight somehow manages how to keep hold of the bottle as he laughs, squirming as he usually does. 

"Holy shit thats actually impressive!" He stops squirming, half worried that with their new height difference he could probably knock Trapper into a table. 

"Language." Trapper reprimands, marching Dwight out of his study with his usual inhuman speed. 

"Dude I'm like almost two hundred fifty pounds how strong are you?" Dwight laughs and takes a swig from the bottle as Trapper marches past the steps, "Hey my rooms upstairs?" 

Trapper grunts, acknowledging what he said but obviously deciding to ignore it. He can't quite remember what was down this hallway anyway. Trapper opens a door and enters a dark room. Dwight struggles to look around before he's dropped on a comfortable well worn quilt, unlike the stiff one upstairs. He sits up, eyes adjusting to the light as Trapper takes the bottle from his hand. 

"You can't hold your liquor." Trapper teases, "That whiskey has been basically water since I was fifteen." 

"Where am I?" He slurs, looking around the room. There were loose papers on every flat surface. On the desk was a scattering of pencils and charcoal sticks. Curiously he starts to get up to take a look when a scared hand pushes him back down. 

"My room." 

Dwight sits halfway up, earning a stern glare from Trapper as he unbuckles the straps of his coveralls. 

"Is this your research?" 

"No, its my...hobby." 

Dwight slides out of the bed and attempts to peek at the art. Catching a glimpse of a painstakingly drawn winterscape. Only for him to be shoo'd back towards the bed. 

"Dwight for the last time go to bed." 

"C'mon Chuckles you carry me to your room and don't expect me to be nosey?" 

Trapper stares at him for an uncomfortably long time, enough for him to start looking around the room again. Without warning his glasses are plucked off his face, plunging the world into a dark blurry mass. 

"Hey!" He whines, reaching blindly for his glasses and glaring at Trappers blurry form, "You better not keep those." 

"I wont." Trapper sets them on the desk before walking around the bed and sitting down. 

Dwight stares at him for a few moments before laying down. He rolls onto his side to look at Trapper, only for the trinket to shift painfully in his pocket. He digs it out, holding it close to his face to watch the fog swirl in the glass. It was hard for him to focus with the alcohol in him. Trapper said that the Fog could be used for to travel. And they could get out of here. He smiles just thinking about it. 

In the glass ball the fog parts to reveal a beautiful forest, sun shining on the leaves. It was familiar, the forest of his hometown. I missed it dearly, and moved back after a failure in New York upstarts. And then I went out into the woods and came to this hell. I've meet so many good people here, and as much as I hate it here I love my teammates do much its hard to imagine leaving without them. 

"That's...very kind of you." Trapper replies, startling Dwight out if his thoughts. 

"Was I talking?" He asks, earning a chuckles from Chuckles. 

"Yes you were. A riveting tale of your disappearance." 

He blinks slowly at the glass ball, the Fog closing on the forest and returning to the swirling abyss. Should he show this to Trapper? It would probably help with the whole getting out thing. He raises a hand and gently taps Trapper's broad shoulder. The man turns to look at him, odd expression on his scarred face. 

"I found this in my room." He explains, holding the trinket out, "I was gonna use it you bust your head in if you tried anything, but I think you should see it." 

Trapper takes it from him, rolling it in his hand for a moment before turning away from Dwight. He doesn't speak, and Dwight closes his eyes. Enjoying the soft bed and warm feelings while they lasted.


	5. Sacrifice

Evan stares at Dwight as the man sleeps. His hands were cold from holding the glass sphere passed to him. It seemed to suck warmth from his skin until he was sure his fingers would turn blue. Dwight was warm though. He could feel heat emanating from a wayward hand that barely grazed his thigh. 

In those tense moment just before being offered tenderness he had wanted to do a lot of things to Dwight. 

The most concerning one was the urge to kiss the man. 

Hes not a stranger to that urge, or the effort he goes to in order to hide it. Obviously his Father was no fan of pansies, and it was easy to divulge himself in the work of the mines instead of begrudgingly taking a wife. Here however it didn't seem to matter to many who he favored. There were worse perversions out here than being a pansy. 

The least concerning urge was the one to shove the mans face into a bear trap. 

When the man sat on his father's desk earlier. Such disregard for his late father's work, the empire he ran from behind that desk. Evan hardly used it, for the memory of the brute still brought fear into his heart. As if his father would burst in and break his nose for even allowing another into the study. 

The struggle between those two urges had almost ended Dwight's life, and their shot at escape. 

And then Dwight hugged him. Pulled him close and held him despite everything he's done, to him and his friends. What he was going to do to him. Thats what he decided he liked about Dwight. The man was always willing to offer kindness and compassion. Even if was only due to the man misunderstanding Evan's place in the Fog as a killer. But he would take what he could get. 

The man makes an odd grunt in his sleep and rolls over onto his back, head shifting to face away from him. Evan looks away from him at that the swirling Fog in the trinket. 

He had never seen it before, but it intrigued him. The Fog inside was the same as the one he hoped to use for escape, and if he thought if a place it seemed to show him a small image of that area. Perhapse it held some other power yet to be understood. He places the trinket on the bedside table and rubs his hands together to warm them up. 

The Entity was annoyed with him. He could feel the pressure bearing down on him, demanding that he go to a hunt. Demanding he kill. It would be very tasteless to go out and murder Dwight's friends while he was trying to build their relation. Besides he wasn't one to listen to orders from others anyway. Instead he takes a sketchbook sitting at his bedside and starts to aimlessly draw the man infront of him. It was easier to get the definitions of his face without his ugly eyeglasses obscuring his natural features. 

Time isn't quantifiable here, but Dwight starts to stir once he's on his second page of sketches. The man groans loudly and sits up, rubbing his eyes. He mumbles incomprehensible nonsense before yawning again.   
"Fuck me." 

"Language, boy." Evan chides, almost accepting the invitation. 

Dwight jumps, blinking at him blearily before relaxing, "Oh, sorry." 

He runs his fingers through his hair and groans, laying back on the bed with his eyes closed. 

"Why am I hungover?" Dwight asks meekly, peeking through his fingers at Evan. Its adorable. 

"I believe the Entity feeds off misery." 

"That explains so much." Dwight laughs, grabbing the pillow and shoving it into his face, "Last night was fun." 

"You remember it?" Evan jokes, he almost assumed the other had been too far gone. 

"Sure. You said it yourself that whiskey was watered down and well it got me drunk but not that drunk." The mans muffled voice sounds from under the down pillow. 

"I'm glad you know your limits." Evan says, rising from the bed and going to the closet. 

He didn't like to sleep, but he did like keeping a schedual. From the closet he selects his black coveralls that Joey had customized for him. Pulling them on along with his boots. Usually he didn't bother wearing a shirt underneath. Behind him he hears Dwight get up and move around, probably retrieving his eyeglasses. 

"I'm gonna go get changed." Dwight says, "I'll me you in the study so we can get our plan together." 

Evan didn't enjoy taking orders from others, but it was endearing coming from Dwight so he decides to let it slide. 

"Of course." 

He follows Dwight out, making his way to the study while the man trots upstairs. The way the man kept referring to the guest room as _his_ room was making him practically giddy. It would be lovely for them to simply live together like this. Even if they couldn't escape the realm just having him as his captive- 

Evan stops, staring at the eyes of his own masks. Something felt off but he couldn't quite figure out why. A glance around the room doesn't shed light on the feeling of malaise now shrouded him. What was he thinking of again? Something about him and Dwight obviously. 

Shaking his head he continues towards his study. First he would have to go over which killers he would ask to go with. He has obvious picks, but Dwight would no doubt have his own trepidations. The other would be able to talk at least a few of his teammates into coming with him. The Entity would no doubt try to corrupt their minds the instant they got together, but he knew the ones he had picked would stand strong in the face of the immense pressure. Hopefully the Entity doesn't decide to simply kill the survivors themselves. 

The door study swings open with a crash and Dwight runs in. Excitment written over his face as he holds up one of his mothers painstakingly put together scrap books. Rage fires up in him at the sight of the book being manhandled, but Dwight speaks first. 

" _You're Evan McMillian?_?" Dwight asks with a sort of reverence that startles him as much as the man saying his name. 

"Yes? You didn't let me introduce myself." Evan says, tilting his head as a lovely smile breaks onto Dwight's face. 

"Holy sh- you you're from Weeks right? Weeks West Virginia?" 

"...Yes?" 

Dwight closes the scrapbook with care, an act that saves himself from a few bruises as ge looks at Evan with pure glee. 

"You're not going to believe this but I'm from Weeks too!" Dwight says, "I can't believe I never connected the dots but we learned about you in school! Like we even took a field trip to the MacMillan mines! They're like unrecognizable in the trials compared to real life! " 

Evan stares at the man, at a loss for words. What he was saying made almost no sense. Dwight...knew him? He had been to the mines for school? The giddy smile from the younger man was distracting him just as much with the way it made the tips of his fingers numb. He licks his lips and gently tries to ask for more information. 

"You're...also from Weeks?" 

"Yeah! I was born there! I moved to New York like everybody else does to escape. Holy fuck what-" 

"Language." Evan grunts, cutting Dwight off briefly. 

"Sh-Shoot sorry. But what are are the odds that we are both from the same town! I..." Dwight trails off suddenly, "We...were both from the same town..." 

Evan stares at Dwight, watching an odd look appear on his face. 

"You...You're Evan MacMillian..." 

Dwight had learned about him in school. 

He had been to the mines. 

He knew. 

"Where did you get that book?" Evan asks, gentle tone gone and replaced with carefully controlled malice. 

"You're a monster." Dwight whispers, words scratching at him feebly, "You killed hundreds of innocent miners! You- God the things you did to them!" 

Evan lunges forward and rips the book from Dwight's hands. Quickly the man steps back, hand going go his pocket for the trinket that wasn't there. What? Was he going to attack him now? Was he scared of him now? 

"You don't know me." Evan growls. 

"I do know you!" Dwight yells, face flushing a soft red, "I know that you're an abusive fucking pig!" 

"Watch your _damn_ language boy!" 

"No! Fuck you! You're trying to trick me to get back out into the real world so you can kill people that don't come back!" Dwight continues, every words making rage blaze inside him hotter than the Foundry itself, "You deserve to rot in this hell you fucking bastard!" 

Trapper watches Dwight's eyes widen slightly and he steps back. An overwhelming presence bears down on him as whispers fill his ears. Begging for Dwight's blood to coat the floor and run over his fingers. To feel every single one of the dirty little _maggots_ bones snap under his boots. He wants to splatter his brains on his father's desk. 

Dwight spins on heel and runs out of the study. Without thinking Trapper follows, the whispers growing louder with every step he takes towards the disobedient maggot. Workers aren't allowed to leave the estate, they stay in the mines and they work. Ones who run are punished. He has to punish them or father will punish him. 

The study door slams in his face, and he raises a heavy boot. Kicking it down with one brutal stomp. Dwight was at the foyer. 

The maggot was at the gates. 

The worker was escaping. 

His father was telling him to put this _bitch_ in his place. To beat this little pansy down or he will be beaten down in his place. 

"I'm not scared of you." Dwight's whispers cutting through the Entity's voice like a knife, "I thought you were better than this, but you're just another boogeyman under the bed." 

The door slams and he's alone again.


	6. Drawing Dead

Dwight is grateful that he actually put on shoes this morning. Sticks crack under the hiking boots he had bought and only worn once for that shitty skydiving hike thing Lazar forced him to do. So much easier to run away from his problems. He glares at the forest, hating how familiar it was now. Less overgrown than it had been on his field trip, but still the same forest. 

Evan MacMillian was the Trapper this whole time. The monster in the Woods of Weeks. Don't go outside in the woods or else Evan will catch you in his bear trap. 

He can't believe that a shitty liar like Evan had fooled him. The Entity was making him kill? Yeah right. Trapper obviously didn't like being ordered around, human or unfeeling abomination. 

But it's okay, once he gets back to the campfire he can tell everyone how to get out! He didn't need Trapper or any other shitty boogeyman to help him- 

He rounds the edge of the water tower and stops in his tracks. Just ahead a young man is struggling with a trap on his foot. It takes a few seconds for him to recognize the dark hoodie. It was one of those teenagers that had come around...yesterday? Before he can turn tail and run out of sight the man looks up and waves at him. 

"Oh hey can you help me out here? I don't know how these things work and I think if I grab the jaws I'll get my fingers cut off." 

As much as he didn't want to deal with anymore killers it was hard to walk away from someone in a trap when he had been in one so often. Begrudgingly he approches the younger man and crouches down. 

"Oh shit are you that loser?" The man says, earning a glare from Dwight. 

"You want help or not?" 

"Sorry uh, that's just what we call you guys. Frank mentioned he saw someone at Mr. 'Millians that was uh, not one of us and I figured I come and check it out because I thought Frank was totally tripping but I guess not." The man rambles on as Dwight pushes down on the springs and frees his ankle from the iron jaws. 

He slips his leg out and grunts. Rolling up the pant leg to reveal shiny pink gashes on his dark skin. 

"Jesus christ, Millians really upped security. Are you making a run for it?" 

"Yeah, guess you could say that." Dwight admits. This guy was a chatter box. He pulls a yellow bandana from his back pocket and hands it to the young man. He starts wiping away the blood on the already closing wounds. 

"Oh, cool. Millians a bit intense when he gets in his moods, eh? Like guy's better at hiding it than Philip but when he goes on a rager its best to get the fuck outta town, eh?" The man stands, testing his weight on his injured foot, "Millians a nice guy though, gone completely soft as of recent I betcha. Guys chiller than polar bear in a blizzard what you do to get him all rilled up. buddy? Got the best set up of anyone else round here, better than whatever you lo- uh runners get out in your space, eh? Mean he's got a house and a big ass property, living like a king y'know I mean is he like...doin' shit to ya?" 

Dwight blinks at the man who stares at him expectantly. Not only did he speak a lot he spoke fast with a thick accent. He was having a bit of trouble understanding it but thankfully he had spoken with Jeff enough to get a feel on what he said. 

"He uh, lied to me?" He looks around nervously, listening hard for a heartbeat. They were standing around out in the open with the Trapper prowling around. Even if Shelter Woods looked a bit different it still felt like a trial, "He said that the Entity forced him to kill but, but I know he's a complete monster! I've heard about the stuff he did outside of here and- and he's...a dick...." 

An odd look appears on the youths face and he looks down at his sneakers, "Oh well the Entity does kinda force us to do it. I mean I wouldn't act the way I did on my own. I guess it has to push some of us harder than others though, there's a few guys in here that are fuckin' crazy y'know?" 

A pang of pity for the young man annoyingly hits him. He vaugly remembered this particular guy as being almost docile when trying to kill them. 

"We all have dark shit in our past though, eh? Like y'know me and my buddies did a pretty awful thing back out in the real world but like I don't think that means we deserve this." The man gestures vaugly around them, "And y'know Millian always seemed like he has some sort of sad past or something like get got major issues so maybe he's actually a nice guy under all those problems y'know? Like sometimes bad people out there push us to do things that we don't wanna do but we gotta because if we don't its gonna get way the hell worse and then you do somethin' so fuckin' terrible you regret it forever and then get-" 

A scream blissfully interuppts the mans rambling. It takes a moment for Dwight to recognize the scream. Though it sounded like the wails of the Nurse, it was something worse. 

"Fuck." The man whispers, fear in his voice making Dwight afraid too. 

Without thinking the other man lights up in a soft golden glow, a glow that left the Trapper and struck him numb with terror. 

"Okay shit buddy you gotta go back to Millians house right now. That thing is a fucking monster and it doesn't not give a shit who it sees it'll rip your head off." 

"I know what it does." Dwight grumbles in frustration. He had very little patience for this guy already and wasn't about to go to uncharted territory back at Trapper's place. 

"Look uh..." 

"Dwight." 

"Dwight. Do what you gotta do but don't judge a book by its cover y'know?" 

And with that the little chatter box turns and jogs off into the woods. 

"Oh I'll tell Frank you ran off so he doesn't come bothering you!" The man yells back as he runs. Another scream echos through the woods and Dwight groans. He liked having his head on his body. 

A pale monster flashes through the trees. A heartbeat thunders in his ears, and Dwight turns back towards the house in a sprint. He had hoped that guy yelling would draw its attention, but it seemed to be on hunting him exclusively. Nancy had called it the Demogorgon, and said that it lived in another dimension or something. Whatever it was last time he got his face meatgrinded he didn't feel right for a long time. He looks behind him as he runs, not seeing the beast but still not feeling safe. Looking forward he keeps his eyes on the ground, weaving around the patches of grass carefully. Last thing he wanted to do was get caught and become a sitting duck. Unlike in a trial he starts to feel a burn in his side and gasps for air. This sucks, that really, really sucks. His asthma was but a dream in the trials but now he feels his throat tightening, and lungs burning for air. Forcing him to slow to a sad stop, hands on his knees while he desperately wheeze for air. God it had been so long since he had an asthma attack, was his inhaler even in this hell hole? Would it even help? A loud growls sounds from behind and he drops to the ground as the Demogorgon soars over his head. Landing a few feet infront of him and rolling slightly. The thing gets onto all fours and shakes its nasty body. The giant ugly head turns towards him and it rises to its feet with a roar before taking a step forward. 

A snap, and the beast shrieks in pain. A trap was clamped around its leg, and it lowers itself to claw desperatly at the iron. Still breathless he takes the chance and gets to his feet and continues running for the Foundry. Eyes on the ground for more traps as he gasps desperstly for air. More shrieks sound from the beast and Dwight looks behind to see the monster on all fours, half running half limping after him, one of its feet still caught in the trap.

He looks forward for only a second before smashing into a solid mass. He hears a grunt as he loses balance and falls onto the ground. Above him was the familiar menacing silhouette he had learned to fear more than God but a soft halo of yellow surrounded him. 

"Get up." Trapper orders, thankfully sounding annoyed and not bloodthirsty under his mask. 

He stands quickly, only slightly reassured by the golden aura. What wasn't comforting was the machete in his hand. Gasping he steps back and looks at the Demogorgon. It slowed its approach, somehow sensing a threat in its vicinity and not easy prey. Trapper grabs his shoulder and tugs him back, stepping infront of him and approaching the beast. The monster screams at him, mouth opening into a nightmare of teeth that makes Dwight's stomach twist in dread. The feeling of those burning hot gums and sharp teeth grinding his face to shreds. The feeling of his eyes being reduced to jam before blissful death never quite left him. He falls to his knees, trying to make himself smaller as the two killers clash. 

Trapper stops fifteen feet away and bends down setting a bear trap without fear. The Demogorgon rises, one foot still in a trap as it roars in fury. It pounces fast and furious, clearing the gap in an instant. Claws barely brush Trapper's skin as uses the butt of the machete to slam the creature down with brutal strength. The Demogorgon shrieks before a heavy boot smashes its head into the bear trap. The metal prongs snap into its white flesh like a vice. The creature shrieks miserably, claws scrabbling at the iron jaws as Trapper walks around it. The empty eyes of the mask stare down at the creature. No mercy, no pity. Just a predator, a monster. The beast raises the machete above hid head and buries it into the monsters shoulder. 

Silver blood spurts out from its back and it screams. Attempting to rise only for Trapper to stomp on its back, the brutal snapping of bones fills the air and the creature screams. Fat head lolling desperatly under the weight of the trap. Again and again Trapper buries the machete into the monsters back. Not even grunting from exertion at the action. Its screams and cries grow weaker and weaker as its body is carved into over and over again. The sight makes his skin crawl and he starts to slowly crawl away, back hitting a tree as Trapper brutalized the monster. 

"Trapper..." He calls softly. Barely audible over the thud of metal hitting flesh and bone echoing in his ears. 

The man doesn't stop. Another blow of the machete cleaves the Demogorgon's arm off its torso. The creature twitches weakly under the iron. Using the tree for support he pulls himself up. Swallowing he tries another name. 

"Evan..?" 

The man looks up instantly. Silver blood drips off the mask and onto his coveralls. Those familar black eye holes stare at him with menace. He swallows, just barely resisting the urge to run or duck behind the tree. 

"You can stop now. I-its dead." 

Trapper wasn't even breathing heavily as the mask looks at the mutilated body on the ground. Pulling his machete out of its body and wiping the blood off on his arm. Then he looks at Dwight again. 

"Are you okay?" The voice coming from the mask is concerned, he would almost call it friendly. 

"Y-yeah I-I..." He finds himself unable to pull up his previous confidence staring into that horrific mask.   
It shakes him to the very core of his being. Before it was just a man, a person that he could genuinely be friends with any other time. One he could yell at and hold accountable for the lives he took. This was a monster. A beast no different than the Demogorgon or the Shape. It hunts, it stalks, it kills. It can't be reasoned with or bargained with. Its just a monster. Trapper takes a step forward, and he stumbles back. 

Trapper looks down at himself and then back at Dwight. Tense seconds pass before the man shoves the machete through the Demogorgons limp head. As he steps forward a bloody hands lifts the mask from his face. 

Its still the same man he played chess with. The same man who beat him to death. It could be any other person as much as it could be the Trapper. 

"It's good that you're here. I wanted to..." Trapper trails off, frowning as he tries to find the words. 

"Apologize?" 

"No- well...yes. I suppose." Trapper sighs, "Offer an explanation is a closer approximation. If you'd care to listen." 

Dwight stares at the man. Obviously he wasn't going to hurt him and going out if his way to protect him, he might as well hear him out. 

"Fine. I guess a explanation is the least you could give me. 

Trapper's lips quirk into a smile and he looks like he's going go say something before clearing his throat. "Follow me if you would. The Entity has a stronger hold on me here." 

Dwight pushes off the tree, falling in step slightly behind Trapper as he leads him through the woods. 

"Stronger hold?" 

"When you were yelling at me. I had a...moment of weakness and it took over." Trapper explains, trees breaking out into a large clearing with a massive dead tree at the center, "I've obviously calmed down." 

"...Really?" 

Trapper looks back and nods, "You said it yourself. I'm a no good liar." 

He watches Trapper walk around the tree staring at the trunk until he stops at a spot and sits between the roots with his back against the tree. Dwight sits cross-legged infront of him, pulling the rough grass out of the soil. Trapper doesn't speak, instead staring off into the distance as crows start to land around them. His blood streaked fingers run over the edges of the word wooden mask. 

"My father...he...was an overbearing man." Evan starts, voice low and distant, "He always made sure we did as we were told. Me and the workers of course. He controlled us with an iron fist...no...more like brass knuckles." 

Dwight watches the man reminisce sadly. He could see where this was going. 

"Once he broke my jaw for speaking out of turn. But that was when he was younger. As he got older his mind started to slip. And I won't say I didn't hurt my workers, because I did. And it felt good. To be above someone after living under my father. When he told me to lead them into the mine I did. And then when he told me to detonate the bombs...I did." 

"Because you were afraid of him?" Dwight asks? 

"...Yes. Even though he was old and wheelchair bound I was still afraid of him." Evan lets out a sad laugh and shakes his head, "How sad is that? Afraid of an old husk." 

So his dad was abusive and pressured him into being the same. It was sad, but it wasn't an excuse to murder hundreds of people and abuse many more. 

"You know what I think is evil." Dwight says, meeting Trapper's eyes as he raises his eyebrows curiously, "Knowing the things they do are bad, but doing them anyway." 

Trapper doesn't look guilty. He only tilts his head thoughtfully. 

"But what if I said I wanted to change?" 

He stares at the man hard, looking for evidence of him lying. Maybe him seeking Dwight out like this to escape was a call for help. He wasn't in the habit of doubting people. Trapper had darkness in his past, and so did he. They both experienced moments of reckoning, Trapper's just took longer than his. If there was a chance of getting out, he was willing to put his faith in Trapper. 

"I would believe you." 

Trapper smiles and lets out a familiar low chuckle, "You're too trusting." 

Dwight shrugs, nudging Trapper's leg with his boot, "It's easier to be nice." 

"I'll take that into consideration." 

Dwight stands and looks out into the woods, "I'm gonna go back to the campfire and see who I can get to come along. I'll meet you back here with whoever you can get." 

Trapper stands as well, holding mask out to him, "Take this. Might get your teammates to believe you." 

Dwight stares at the mask, and it stares back him with empty menacing eyes. Slowly he reaches out and runs his fingers over the cold wood. He half expected it to hurt him when his skin came in contact with it but it was just a mask. It has a decent weight to it when he takes it into his hands fully. Of course the urge to put it on comes over him, but maybe it would upset Trapper. 

"You can call me Evan, if you would like to." 

He nods before turning and carefully making his way into the woods. As he walks the Fog starts to collect at his feet, swirling around until the trees of Shelter woods fade away. He thinks of the warm campfire and his teammates. It feels like forever since he last saw them too. 

Light in the distance, and voices. 

Excitedly he sprints forward, breaking out of the treeline to see a familiar group of people loitering around at the fire. His noisy entrance catches the attetion of a few people, who look towards him curiously. 

"Oh shit, Dwight?" Nea calls, catching more people attention as he runs over. 

"Holy shit! Where have you been?" Meg calls, jumping to her feet with barely contained relief. 

"Its a long story" he admits, happy to feel the warmth of the campfire in his arms after so long, "And like...super crazy." 

He sits at the campfire, and holds out Evan mask. A hush falls over the fire instsntly, wide eyes focused on the mask. 

"Is...that..." Jake murmurs, reaching out and gently taking the mask from him.   
Dwight runs his fingers through his hair and starts the story from the beginning. He cuts out most of the miscellaneous details, focusing on Evan's want to change and the possibility of freedom. 

"So uh...now I guess if anyone wants to uh...come with me we can...maybe leave?" 

Dirty and tired faces stare at him with a mixture of apprehension and fear. He looks down at the mask in his hands and takes a deep breath. It was asking a lot. 

"Will..." Laurie starts, faultering slightly as seven heads turn toward her, "Will...others be there two? Or just...Trapper?" 

Right, Evan had mentioned a few times that he would be inviting others. He should hsve asked just who those ones were.   
"I think so but he uh, never mentioned who exactly he...would wanna bring..." 

Dwight watches doubt leech onto their faces, "But I...I trust him to make good choices." 

Tension is thick in the air and he grips the mask nervously. He didn't want to go alone if the chance to escape was there. It meant everything to him for his friends to be safe again. 

"Fuck it. I'm in." Nea says, "If this is just a weird round about way to kill us off then whatever, y'know? If it is a way out I'm not letting it slip through the cracks." 

Slowly the rest of the survivors agree. Dwight instructs them to look around and sell everyone else on this. For the first time in a while he sees genuine smiles on a their faces. As usual a lot of survivors are off on trials and he has to wait for them to come back to campfire to pitch it to them. As hes in the middle of talking to Jake, Ace gets his attetion. 

"Hey kiddo, can we uh, talk a bit?" The man says, gesturing over to where Bill, Ash, Èlodie standing in semi-circle. 

"Oh uh, sure!" Dwight says as Ace wraps an arm around his shoulder, guiding the man towards the group. 

"So we've been talking and uh, we aren't gonna be leaving." Ace takes his hat off and runs his fingers through his hair, "Not that we don't wanna get out but we-" 

"What? No- No why would you want to stay?" Dwight looks at the four, waiting for an explanation. 

Ace shrugs, "I can't go back. Not after this place. I got a...problem y'know?" 

Dwight stares at him in utter shock. He can't fucking comprehend why anyone would not be able to go back. 

"Same here. When I was taken here it was on my last breath. Whoever I go back, I'm dead." Bill adds, offering Dwight a shrug, "Nothin' personal." 

"Dwight." Èlodie says, tone gentle and understanding, " I came here on my own according. I need to find my parents, they are somewhere in here. Once I do that I can leave. But not until then." 

He feels a heavy pit in his heart looking at his teammates. They were refusing to be saved, and it hurt him. Leaving then stuck in this hell hole was something he just wouldn't stand for. 

"Hey Chief I see that look in your eye, but its all gonna good!" Ash says, resting his good hand on Dwight's shoulder, "Besides at least four of us need to be off in a trial for you guys to make a break for it. We're doin' you a favor!" 

Tears prick his eyes without warning, "B-but I...you..." 

Ace pulls him close and ruffles his hair fondly, "Don't worry kiddo. We are gonna give these killers hell. You go out there and enjoy your life. Use those poker cheats I taught you and you'll be golden!" 

Its hard for him to speak with a huge lump in his throat. He stares at Ace as the man presses a round plastic item in his palm. Dwight looks at a blue poker chip in his hand then up at Ace. 

"Lucky chip. Don't get killed." 

With that Ace separates from him, and the four start walking towards the treeline. They wave back at him and he hears Ace say hood luck before the vanish into the fog for the last time. Dwight wipes tears from his eyes before making his way back to the fire. 

"Lets go."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New way of writing Joey, I think its really funny that way


	7. Resign

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel so dorky writing killers and survivors teaming up

Evan paces nervously around the clearing. It had felt like a long time. If Dwight didn't come soon eventually he would have to go to a trial and that would ruin any confidence Dwight had in him. But if he waited too long the Enity would force him to go and lead to the same fate. 

"Evan. You're pissing me off." Philips raspy voice interuppts his thoughts. 

"By what? Walking?" Evan snaps, glaring at the direction the voice had come from, "And can you please reveal yourself. You'll scare the help." 

"I think those two over there will scare them more." 

Evan looks at Bubba and Max, both staring at him walk with blank expressions. 

"Leave them out of this." 

A snort sounds from thin air and he catches sight of a shifting blur moving away from him. As much as he hated it Philip was right. He needed to stop overthinking things, it was dragging the whole mood of the group down. He stares at the hobbled mess of those he trusted to not turn on survivors and deserved to be free. Not counting him, nine others loitering around the field. Max and Bubba are inseparable, Philip was no doubt staring from somewhere else while Sally and the younger ones stood in a semicircle. 

"E-Evan." A soft voice sounds from the treeline. He turns instantly and holds off a smile at the sight of Dwight stepping out of the woods. His mask was clutched in his hand. 

Quickly he walks towards Dwight, casually blocking him from the view of the other killers. 

"Good to see you." He says, feeling warmth in his chest at the easy smile the man gives him. 

"Yeah! Same here. I uh, got a bunch of my friends to come and I told them I'd do some recon and let you know we're here." Dwight says, glancing nervously at the others behind him, "Oh uh, lots of familiar faces here!" 

"I trust us to stay in control. You're safe." 

Dwight nods, looking down at the mask before holding it out to him. He takes it, unsure how to feel about the familiar weight now that he was leaving the Entity behind for good. He's tempted to put it on but refrains due to the no mask policy he put in place for the others. 

"Hey Wraith I know your there." Dwight says suddenly, looking pointedly to a spot to his left. 

Evan looks over to the spot and reaches his hand out, bumping into the soft fabric of Philip's cloak. He scowls at the man, resisting the urge to shove him. 

"Good to know your prescription is up to date." The air says, before the ringing of a bell echos through the clearing. 

Slowly the tall dark figure of Philip reappears. His scared and painted face glares down at the two in barely kept disgust. At the sight of him Dwight shrinks back ever so slightly. 

"Oh you're...that tall naturally?" 

Philip tilts his head, glowing eyes sizing Dwight up with nothing but animosity. Evan likes Phillip, he was a level headed man at times but he fell into utter rages that were almost as bad as Rin's. No doubt the Entity was whispering to him in an attempt to stop their escape. He gives Dwight a look and barrows his eyes. 

"I uh, I'm Dwight. We, we like to call you Wraith but...what's your name?" 

Silence was heavy between the three before Philip finally responds. 

"Philip." The man says, raising his bell and ringing it. The sound makes Dwight flinch as they watch the air shimmer in the shape of his friend before he gets far enough away to vanish completely. 

"He...uh...always like that?" Dwight asks. 

"Sometimes. Bring your friends. I'll let mine know." Evan orders. 

He faces the group of murders and takes a deep breath. It had been a long time since he commanded people without the cloud of fear over them. Without brutal violence to keep them in line. Dwight made it look so easy. Whenever Philip or Frank gave him lip service he wanted nothing more than to beat then into a pulp. But now he had organized them without force, and they would escape. 

"They're coming." He says simply, catching th attetion of the group quickly, "Don't do anything to spoil our chances." 

Its hard not to threaten to beat them. But he was going to have to change a little bit. Soon he wouldn't have the Entity telling him what to do, or anyone else for that matter. He watches as a few survivor's start to trickle out of the woods. They looked...normal now. Not the small ants that were easy to torment. A few we even taller than him, which was odd to see. Most looked nervous and some hid it well. They all stopped halfway across the clearing. Leaving a large gap. Evan looks back at his small group of people and then at the Dwight's. 

"So uh, let's form a circle..." Dwight offers, struggling to put on a brave face. 

"I'm not holding anyone's hand." A short one with a knit cap says.  
Begrudgingly the two groups form a uncomfortable oval. With Dwight and himself at one end standing shoulder to shoulder, and a slight woman with a hackjob haircut at the end next to Sally. The all stare at each other in tense silence. 

"So uh, I guess we just....think about home." Dwight says, voice wavering as every head in the field turns towards him. 

"Just like that?" Susie mumbles cautiously, voice low but still defening in the silence of the circle. 

Evan steels himself, and tries to take a page from Dwight's book. Not everything needed to be handled with brass knuckles and force. This realm was all about bloodlust and hatred. The world outside was a place of tenderness and mercy. 

"Think of...sunlight." Evan offers, immedietly feeling a rush of embarrassment as the survivors turn to look at him in fear and skepticism. He forges on. 

"And those you want to return to. Think of the things you left unfinished, and unsaid." 

Susie takes a breath and closes her eyes. Upon doing that others in the circle do so as well. As they start to concentrate menacing Fog rolls in through the trees. Slowly he reaches out and takes Dwight's hand in his. 

The man doesn't pull away. Instead entwining their fingers and gently squeezes. 

Evan thinks of sunlight. He thinks of his friends. Not Maggots, his fellow workers. He thinks about being a better man. A better leader like the one next to him. He thinks about how much he will miss Dwight in the short amount of time they had together that wasn't a lethal killing game. What he would give to have met this man at the company store, to have built a genuin relationship with him. To fall in love and live together free of his father's wrath and the burden of commanding an army of works. 

He thinks about a simpler life with his Uncle and mother. Without his father. 

The Fog is thick now. Blocking Sally complete from view and eating away the other survivors until it feels like Dwight and himself are the only people left in this entire world. 

"I'm sorry." He whispers, words foreign on his tongue. 

"I forgive you." Dwight whispers back, tilting his head up to smile at Evan through the Fog, "When I read about you in the history books, I expect a better man." 

Evan nods, leaning down as the fog threatens to take Dwight away from him and presses his lips against the others. He feels Dwight gasp in suprise, but he doesn't pull away. Instead the Fog covers them both and rips them away.


	8. Dead Hand

Dwight lights a cigarette and stares at the tombstone. 

'In Memory of Evan Mcmillian.' 

The date of birth and death were so faded he can't make them out. Figures. 

"You kept your promise." He says to the grave, "No more Beast of Weeks. Just a mine that dried out and closed up after the depression. Nothing but boring history." 

No matter how much he tried to distract himself back at the office he always circled around to that nightmare. Not even that fucking promotion he wanted so bad could make him forget the time in hell. Another drag of the cigarette does make him feel a bit better as he crouches down to wipe away the moss and dirt collected on the once polished stone. The feeling of Evan's lips on his never quite left him. 

"You really had to leave me with that kiss didn't you." He muses, wishing that he had brought something to clean it with instead of a few daisies, "I swear you were trying to get me to fall in love with you." 

Birds chirp in response and he sighs, rising and stepping back from the gravestone. It looked a little happier with the flowers and less dirt, which made him feel better. He walks through the historic Weeks cemetery towards his shitty silver sedan, dropping into the front seat and starting the car. 

He still feels wrong. Driving through ever familiar downtown section towards his apartment. A incomprehensible weight sat in his chest ever since he woke up in the woods again. Hungover and abandoned, but able to make it back home instead of in the Fog. He had assumed that Evan was the source of this feeling and that maybe visiting his grave would help. It just filled him with a tremendous sadness instead. 

Evan had done what he asked. A few google searches and a library visit revealed that the MacMillian estate was headed by his father for a long time before ownership passed to Evan. No writings of abuse or murders. Just...a factory. He was proud to hear that he had managed to change a man like Evan for the better. 

He stares at the door to his apartment complex, car idling in a nice parking spot he usually didn't get. Then he pulls out and drives a half remembered path out into the woods from a long ago field trip. Evdntually pulling into the gravel turnout. No other cars were parked despite the bright summertime weather perfect for a day out. He slams the door shut and takes a deep breath. 

A trail winds into the woods, branching off into multiple hiking paths. A board at the front showed an overhead map with certain areas landmarks for historical purposes. One of those landmarks was the MacMillian estate. 

Without a look back he starts on the winding path. Quickly the sun vanishes under the aptly named Shelter Woods. Birds continue to chirp, sounding almost like caws of crows. The place was hauntingly familiar yet different. It looked like the place he had suffered countless times, but it wasn't. It simply...was a forest. 

After an hour he stops to rest, sitting on a large rock just off the path. The estate was further away than he thought, and while he was luckily wearing short sleeves, his skinny jeans and converse were a mistake. More rested he continues his hike down the path, mind wondering to Evan. 

He missed him more than expected. While he was able to reach out to Jake, Meg, and Claudette he couldn't talk to Evan anymore. He had been dead at least eighty or more years, taking with him answers. Why did he kiss him, why was he so damn nice, and why did he want to see him again so badly after everything. 

He looks up and gasps when he sees the elegant, if run down, Tudor Mansion. Sun hitting it at gentle angles that make it look almost cozy. He moves past the sign describing the house and warning him trespassers will be prosecuted. Walking up the overgrown path towards the door of the mansion. The door had long since been broken down by sone trespassers but the inside of the mansion was hauntingly familar. The inside was dark so he pulls his phone out and turns on the flashlight. 

No masks line the livingroom. Instead hunting big game stuffed animals hang on the wall. He walks down the hall and pushed open the study door. This room was much different, instead of the mixture of workshop it was entirely study. It made him sad to see all traces of Evan gone. Slowly he returns to the foyer, shoes crunching broken glass and dried leafs as he walks towards Evan's room. 

He pushes the door open and almost gasps at the room. Its exactly as he remembered, papers strewn everywhere with sketches in various degrees of finished. The cutlrtain was open and lights the room more than it had been last time here. Most works detail different places in the forest, workers in the mine, day to day life in the jazz Era. Making his way into the room and setting his phone on the bed, flashlight pointing up to light the room evenly. 

As he's looking through sketches near the bedside table something catches his eye. Sitting innocently on the bedside table was the glass paperweight. Did Evan keep this in his room all this time after coming back? He picks up the sphere, cold shocking his system and almost causing him to drop it. As he holds it something in him changes. The heavy weight he carried since freedom feels cradled in his hands. 

In the trinket Fog swirls hypnotically. How...was this possible? He was in the real world now...it parts and in it he sees the Tudor Mansion in its former glory. 

A creaking noise sounds behind him and he whirls around to see the door opening slowly. Vertigo hits him like a train and he raises a hand to his temple, swaying on his feet as he looks at the pristine hardwood floor under him. 

"Dwight?" 

No. No that...thats not possible. 

He looks up, eyes wide as he meets an almost familiar face. 

"Evan?" He whispers, horror mounting in him. 

The man was decidedly not the Trapper. Wearing a clean white button down shirt with suspenders, and thick slightly messy black hair that was throwing him for a loop. But the subtle facial scars and features were of the man he knew. 

"How- how the fuck-" 

Evan crosses the room in an instant, strong arms wrapping around Dwight and pulling him against the mans chest. He's too shocked to struggle, breathing in the faint scent of cologne and fresh grass. He sees past Evan's shoulder at the bright mint green walls behind, looking almost brand new. No sketches filled the place anymore. Just a desk, with books and paperwork. Evan pulls away first, both hands cupping Dwight's face and staring at him with a bright smile that unfortunately makes his heart skip a beat. 

"My god I thought I'd never see you again..." Evan whispers, leaning in close. 

Before he can kiss him Dwight jerks away. Gripping the trinket so hard his fingers tingle. 

"We aren't supposed to ever see each other again!" He hisses, looking at the half open door fearfully, "Y-your dead! I'm- how? Why do you have hair?" 

Evan tilts his head, one hand going to his hair "Do you not like it?" 

"No! You- you look, uh really good actually b-but this..." He stops, breathing fast and trying to collect himself, "Evan _how_ am I here." 

The man stares at him with an infuriating blank expression for a few moments before his brows furrow in thought. 

"I suppose that it is very odd..." 

Dwight looks down at the trinket, at the swirling Fog inside and feels sick to his stomach. 

"It didn't work." Dwight whispers, "The Fog didn't take us to an exit, Evan. It...it took us to a fake of our old lives just to pacify us!" 

Instead of rage, understanding, a drive to escape, Evan just stares at him. 

"Is...that so bad?" Evan asks softly, dark eyes boring holes into Dwight, "I mean.. we aren't technically in that hell anymore. I don't have to kill you, or anyone else. It...doesn't hurt to-" 

"To pretend?" Dwight interrupts, anger flaring in him, "Some people stayed in that hell for us to escape and it didn't even work! They are out getting tortured just so we can play fucking house!" 

"Language, please."

He looks to the bed, cursing when he sees that his phone had been whisked away from the time travel. Quickly he moves past Evan and closes the door to his room and locks it. He didn't want Evan's dad to see him here.

"This must be a mind game. Like maybe the Enitity saw we were close to the exit and did this to distract us. But if we get everyone back together- hell if we get more than that and then do it again we can get out for real." He rants, gripping Evan's arm with his free hand. 

This seems to shake the man out of his odd stupor. Cold gaze falling on Dwight, stopping him dead. He swears he can see claws of the Entity twitching in the soft browns eyes. 

"Why bother." Evan says, tilting his head and looking past Dwight, "Why bother leaving when we can simply have what we want forever." 

Its impossible to hold back a snort of disbelief, "Evan are you serious right now?" 

Judging by his expression he is. Dwight shakes his head in dissapointment. He looks down at the trinket and knows that if he thinks about his time in shelter woods he would go back. He could gather everyone else in that time and together they would try again and again. Until they were free. Y  
The fog starts to swirl, and parts to a forest. 

Evan snatches the sphere away before Dwight can clearly see the forest through the Fog. He surges forward in an attempt to grab it back, but unfortunately Evan still has a few inches on him and holds it out of reach. Like a bully on the playground. 

"Evan! What the hell are you-" 

The man throws the glass sphere onto the floor, and it shatters with a horrific chorus. Dumbly he stars at the shining glass and the small puff of Fog quickly dissipating over the oak floor. Dread floods him as the realization that he wasn't going to be able to go home. He drops to his knees, glass cutting into him as he reaches out for the shards of glass at a loss. Broad shoulders come into view as Evan kneels down. Warm calloused hands grip his arms and pull him to his feet. 

"Dwight, listen to me." Evan whispers, deep voice pulling him back into reality from despair, "Its okay. You don't need to leave." 

He meets Evan's eyes with a burning glare. He can't leave.

"We can live here, together. You can help me with the estate and I'll work the mines. You can keep me in line." Evan gently cups his cheek again, voice soft and inviting, "We can be together." 

He steps back in a daze, sitting heavily on the bed. Dwight feels tears prick his eyes at the sincerity of Evan's words. He truly believed that they could be happy. Unwittingly, Dwight had fallen into the ultimate trap. Burying his face in his hands, he starts to sob. 

Months of malaise, false hope, and now utter helplessness overwhelms him. He can't form words through thick body wracking sobs as he feels Evan sit next to him and an arm wraps around his shoulders to pull him close. 

"Shhh, it'll be okay Dwight." Evan whispers in his ear, doing nothing to calm him, "I can make you happy." 

"You fucking monster." He chokes out, "I'd rather be dead than with you." 

Evan gently rubs his back, unaffected by his words or simplyignoring him, "I can get you some tea, or lemonade. Don't cry like this."

A few choices words come to mind, but he stays silent. Trying to steady his breathing. Evan's hand is rubbing annoyingly soothing circles on his back and he relaxes slightly. He feels Evan move, crouching infront of him now. Two hands rest on his thighs. He wipes his eyes and looks at Evan, hating the gentleness in his expression. Slowly Evan moves forward, and Dwight lets him press a soft kiss to his lips. 

"I promise I can make you happy, Dwight. I know it's not what you wanted but we can make it work." Evan whispers against his lips. 

Dwight leans forward, resting his head on Evan's shoulder. There was no metal twisted in it anymore. No sign of the Entity tormenting him.

An almost painless existence. 

It wasn't an escape, but it was better than death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So thats it! A very bittersweet ending as I truly think there's no way out of the entities realm, and rebellions like this only get pacified or punished depending on how the Entity feels. 
> 
> Dwight is stuck in the jazz Era about to turn to the great depression abd forced to play house with Evan until he eventually dies then....back to the trials. 
> 
> Though Evan has his sexy hair though, so maybe the unrequited fully goes to...requited eventually.


End file.
